


Words, Wind

by grayglube



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, five things, prompt, valarmorekinksprompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 15:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7646518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayglube/pseuds/grayglube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day she will be fostered and be married to a great lord's son. One day her sons will be knights or lords. One day her father dies in the South.</p><p>Or the four times Sansa is fostered in a Northern House, and things turned out better for it, and one time she fostered in a Northern House and things turned out worse for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words, Wind

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Four times Sansa is fostered in a Northern House, and things turned out better for it, and one time she fostered in a Northern House and things turned out worse for it. There are numerous pairings in this but no actually smut this time.

****

**_Karstark_ **

**" _The Sun of Winter_ "**

 

Alys is of an age with her. Sansa can already hawk and ride but she learns to shoot and laugh loudly only because Alys treats it with the same weight as embrodiery or the harp without lauding it as Arya would have. Alys makes such rigorous tasks seem worthy of attention. 

 

Lord Karstark watches them ride out and laughs.

 

She hears whispers of her dead aunt as she becomes better with the bow at suppers in the hall.

 

 *     *     *

 

When Harrion is named lord he weeps, he weeps for her, she’d heard of her father's death and only stood and gave a nod at the news. Strong and stony she had been and now he understands the anguish, wound deep, that she has carried. Harrion does not blame her for what Robb has done as others might have.

 

Harrion writes to her brother and swears fealty and amongst the lords of the North who remain behind while war is raged in the South he makes plain that he swore an oath to his King, to Robb Stark the Young Wolf and each man, father or son must hold to their oaths or face the the Old Gods as oathbreaker and craven.

 

*     *     *

 

Robb is killed and she does not weep, instead she tells Harrion they should marry.

 

They might be a united North against the South that would see them buried underbloody snow and frozen mud.

 

She is only a child, he says, but he does not say no. 

 

They marry but there is no bedding and when he leaves with his uncles and his army she gives him her favor, the one she would have brought South and given away in the tourney they held for her father.

 

*     *     *

 

Alys is her bedmate, at first for warmth and then for something that brings it only as an afterthought.

 

Winter is cold and they whisper in the dark, they do not weep, they are strong, they are the heirs to their houses.

 

Alys takes a wildling as husband and soon Sansa sleeps alone.

 

She remembers the kiss and the warmth of a friend’s hands.

 

Like a sister, but not quite so.

 

*     *     *

 

When Harrion returns a victor he admits he lost her favor.

 

She offers him her maidenhead in recompense, a prize for what he has done, for all he has avenged, she weeps and he worries over her but she assures him she is happy because he has done what he swore he would.

 

He is an honorable man. He is a lord and a victor.

 

He is everything her father wished for her, everything she might have sung about.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Manderly_ **

**" _Summer in Winter_ "**

 

She is appreciated for her lady talents, they call her “charming girl, kind girl.” It feels like the sun is warming her face.

 

*     *     *

 

They hold to the traditions of the South from whence they came. A Summer kingdom was once theirs, lost to war and strife in another time so far away it might have been a different world.

 

The Manderly’s follow the Seven but have sworn before the Old Gods of her father their fealty to her house.

 

She calls them the Knights of the North and lord Manderly laughs, loudly, amused and always kind.

 

*     *     *

 

Lord Manderly protects her as fiercely as her own father would, his sons swear to be her protectors as if she were their own true sister.

 

*     *     *

 

His warships are readied and when Stannis’ man comes Lord Manderly defers to her.

 

“This is Sansa Stark, Queen in the North. She treats for us. You will show her the courtesy Queens are do.”

 

The man they call Onion Knight bows low. She bids him to rise.

 

She is no fool, she is only a girl but she knows the men who stand in the hall will fight if she asked, she trusts in their swords and their words. It may be all pageantry, the same as any tourney but there is power in words, and in oaths, in the trust that comes with a promise, this she believes.

 

“Can Stannis Baratheon win without Lord Manderly’s ships?”

 

The Onion Knight hesitates to answers. He means to say ‘no’ but faith stops his voice, she understands.

 

“We stand with Stannis Baratheon if he will prove his right as King by acknowledging and supporting my rightful claim to Winterfell as Wardeness of the North. By acknowledging the ancient claims of House Manderly to the lands stolen from them in the Reach.”

 

The men of House Manderly with their green dyed beards and three pronged spears eye her, no one turns their head in the outright surprise they all feel. Claims they have but they are claims no one remembers, to lands so far South they would not know where they truly lie, still Sansa has learned a handful of things about statesmanship and of what a liege lord's duty is, of what a Queen's is.

 

“Done.”

 

Lord Manderly nods, “send word that we sail to Stannis at the Wall.”

 

*     *     *

 

When the war is done Lord Manderly’s son Wylis, as gallant as any southron knight, as fierce as any loyal hound, bends the knee and swears White Harbor’s fealty to her.

 

She swears in turn that his daughters Wylla and Wynafryd will have houses of their own for what they have shown a woman’s bravery to be, for swearing before all others that they hold to their oaths, oaths to the last Stark when they might have sold her for their own gain.

 

*     *     *

 

There is a song, it is sung during harvest feasts, it tells of a southron house saved from ruin by a strange land of savage ways, it tells of a northern house saved by the gallantry of men with green locks and roses on their shield.

 

Sansa Stark smiles when it is sung, Wylla and Wynafryd grumble at the first plucking of strings but they always shed tears before the minstrels have sung it to its end.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Tallhart & Hornwood_ **

****

**" _Proud and Free" & "Righteous in Wrath_"**

 

 

A boy who she loves, a brave and true warrior, takes her hand and runs. He saves her before his mother or his younger kin.

 

Another boy she loves cuts down three men who block her and his brother’s path.

 

*     *     *

 

Brandon and Beren have different mother but they share a lover.

 

 

*     *     *

 

They have the Glovers and the Hornwoods and the Wild Hares of their dead eldest brother.

 

Neither asks for her hand and she makes no promises, they might all still die.

 

When their enemies are dead, _Ironborn, Frey, Bolton, Lannister_ , they sit at the high table of Winterfell and Torrhen’s Square and Hornwood, they share plates and beds.

 

*     *     *

 

She is a Queen.

 

She has no King, only Consorts and her children might one day be rabbits and moose descendent from wolves.

 

Winter is a strange kingdom though there be dragons South.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Mormont_ **

**_“Here We Stand”_ **

 

It is a terse string of conversations, they wonder if she is another Lynesse come to try to bring them to ruin.

 

Her bastard brother wins her support because he is favored by Maege Mormont’s father.

 

*     *     *

 

Lyanna Mormont is a stately child.

 

They both miss sisters who are lost, gone, dead mayhaps.

 

When the war comes, Sansa returns to Winterfell.

 

She may not have the strength to bear arms as the woman on the gates to Mormont Keep holding a babe and an axe but she can wield charm and words with the same weight Lyanna Mormont may wield expectation and command.

 

*    *     *

 

They are not sisters, they are comrades.

 

When they name her queen she names Bear Island: “ _Warden, Hand, Faithful and True._ ”

 

* * *

 

****

**_Dustin_ **

**_“We Watch and We Wait”_ **

 

Lady Dustin hates her father, Sansa learns, but still she has served, she is perhaps the most loyal of all, Barbrey Dustin who has the most reason to betray him.

 

Her lady mother had said it would be unseemly to leave her daughter in the care of Lord Bolton who has only a bastard son to sit at his high table but agreed when he father had said Lady Dustin would help to bring two houses together in what once was spanned by too many past hurts to count and so much blood.

 

She leaves the day her father is to kill a man. Lord Bolton’s bastard asks to be allowed to go. On the high hill she and Lady Dustin watch, it is not so far that she cannot see what happens to the man when the greatsword of her house strikes his neck.

 

And, when she looks away Lady Dustin does not.

 

“You’ll need to be stronger than that Lady Stark.”

 

“Ladies should not see such things.”

 

“My sister would have said something like that.”

 

“Your sister was Lord Bolton’s wife.”

 

Before Lady Dustin puts heels into her mount she says, “Yes, she was.

 

*     *     *

 

Her father brings her a direwolf before he leaves for the South while she waits with Lady Dustin at Dreadfort for business with the Boltons to be concluded.

 

She names it Lady and in time she is more vicious than any of Ramsay Snow’s hounds, he watches her walk the gatehouse walls with her wolf, a girl in the kennels scowls.

 

*     *     *

 

Lady Dustin has them remain at Dreadfort once business is finished, the harvest feast at Winterfell is too close at hand to allow for smart travel in one direction only to return a fortnight later from whence they came.

 

Roose Bolton has Lady Dustin at his table whilst he settles grievances. The castellan sets seats for her and Ramsay Snow across from each other. His gaze is that of a hawk, Jon was her father’s bastard and he never looked up from his boots. Ramsay Snow’s stare is like an itch, he always grins when she turns to meet his gaze, heat settles in her gut and a flush creeps to her collar every time.

 

She is unused to boys who are not her brothers looking at her.

 

*     *     *

 

Her stitches are very fine when she presents him with a nameday gift of a new cloak. It is the only gift he has received that day.

 

His smile is startling but she swallows and returns it.

 

“You saw your father behead that traitor, I saw you on your horse at the top of the hill.”

 

“I looked away like a stupid little girl.”

 

“Would you like to come on a hunt with me?”

 

She wants to accept but knows she cannot, “We ride tomorrow for the harvest feast. There will be more fun there I think than on a hunt.”

 

He scowls, and storms away from her.

 

She comes to realize why he had turned from her, bastards cannot attend feasts, he isn’t even named castellan in his father’s absence.

 

She means to apologize for her rudeness before she goes, in an empty kennel he has the kennel master's daughter turned to the wall, Sansa is not so young that she does not know what he does, what the girl allows him to do. Even bastards are the sons of lords.

 

He finds her later as she grooms Lady on the stairs. She feels the old familiar flush creep high and low under his silent stare.

 

“You've been looking for me, what do you want?”

 

“I was a fool when I said what I…”

 

“A fool?”

 

“I thought you were accompanying us, to the feast.”

 

“Would you have liked me to accompany my father and you and Lady Dustin. Sit at the high table? Is that where your father’s bastard sits?”

 

“I…. No, Jon sits with the blacksmith and the stableboys. Perhaps I should have been kinder to him, I never thought to before I met you.”

 

“…”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“For the feast, but not for spying.”

 

“I…”

 

Lady Dustin stands above them on the stair, “Lady Stark, come. I have need of you.”

 

*     *     *

 

Barrowton lauds not the comfort of warmth nor the security of stone, like Winterfell. Still, it will be her home and she tries her best to be of good cheer, even while her unappreciative sister attends tourneys and great feast and Robb rules in their father’s stead.

 

She reads Arya's letters with sweeping glances before she puts them to the fire.

 

 

*     *     *

 

Barbrey Dustin hangs the banners of the North through Barrowton. Above all she is for the North, no matter how the past has wounded her. No matter who, she is for the North and for the one who is named King of them all.

 

She does not know what to do with the banners once a Stark has been named King in the North, the Starks bent the knee, there are no kings in the North, she keeps the Baratheon Stag high above all the others, she may be of the North but she also know what one needs to do to survive there.

 

*     *     *

 

The heat of the castle reminds her of Winterfell. They have returned to the Dreadfort because Roose Bolton has named Lady Barbrey castellan as he rides South to fight with the Young Wolf. In the dark halls Sansa can hear the hushed violent whispers of Ramsay Snow and the girl from the kennels, the girl squeaks and falls silent, there are harsh wet sounds in the dark and Sansa listens.

 

*     *     *

 

She hunts with Ramsay Snow and he has not yet told her what they search for. Soon she knows.

 

“I brought her to my bed, I’m a lord's son after all, she was jealous of you. Do you know what I found her doing?”

 

“…”

 

“She was going to poison your Lady.”

 

“…”

 

“Well, I couldn’t let her do that.”

 

The kennel master daughter screams when the hounds drag her from her hiding place. He calls them away and offers Sansa his bow, it is warm from his hands. She is a poor archer and misses, she is glad for it. He comes behind to show her how to hold her arm, he presses close and she feels the heat and hardness of him, the excitement of the hunt through their many layers, his fingers spare a grazing touch under her breast as he levels her arm, she looses an arrow and it hobbles the girl who would have killed Lady.

 

Ramsay sucks in a breath, the kennel master's daughter runs painfully through the brush and Sansa startles, "She's too far. I can't..."

 

Ramsay Snow takes the bow from her and fells the girl with one well placed and true aimed arrow and then his mouth is hard and hot and when it is gone she gasps, sucking in a breath as if she has broken the surface, she should push him from her, she is a lady, he is a bastard but Lady Dustin told her she would need to be stronger than a lady is born to be.

 

He will be her husband, she's heard the whispers of it.

 

She open her mouth under his and presses her lips close, gentle and kind and he softens his grasp on her.

 

“You taste like lemons.”

 

She flushes.

 

“Thank you." She says and he grins and reaches a hand down to scratch at her wolf's head.

 

*     *     *

 

Her father dies, they call him a traitor.

 

They call her brother King in the North, he dies.

 

She is kept, she wonders what for, all her brothers are dead, her mother too, her sister lost.

 

*     *     *

 

 

She shows him her mother's letters, a man called Littlefinger has a spy at Dreadfort that has told her mother how close her and Ramsay have become.

 

*     *     *

 

Ramsay is legitimized and he spins her around the room, kisses her until she cannot breath, her mouth and her throat and his hands hold her in places that he knows they should not. She does not protest, she cannot, she does not want to.

 

Lady Dustin has told her, “Ramsay will protect you, you are a noble lady, you are a Stark, he will need you.” Lady Dustin’s words chill her, ice water in her guts and the sharp burn of betrayal when her family lies dead and his father is one of their killers.

 

And then there is her mother’s final letter that arrives after the news of her death.

 

 

 

Roose Bolton might bring a Frey bride home to Dreadfort but she knows she is worth morth than a Frey and women die in childbed all the time, Roose has already had one bride die of it, what’s one Frey out of a hundred more.

 

She thinks of Maegor’s Black brides and Aegon the Unworthy’s mistresses she does not trust Roose Bolton to keep his bastard alive, she does not trust Roose Bolton to treat her gently.

 

She finds Ramsay Snow, Ramsay Bolton now.

 

“You should be Lord of Dreadfort, I am the Lady of Winterfell. Your father betrayed my family, he is a traitor.”

 

“I suppose that means we must marry then. So we might do justice.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Warden and Wardeness of the North.”

 

His father returns with a fat, happy bride. The Maester says his large bride is already with child. Roose’s eyes curl to look beyond the Frey woman to her, her hair is brushed to a high shine, she has flowered and grown tall, her teats are high and pert and her waist is small. Men trip when she walks the halls, they cough on their food when she sits by his son’s side.

 

*     *     *

 

She is waiting for him in Lady Walda’s chambers, they’ve been knitting heavy blankets for the long winter ahead, her needles are held upright in the woman’s flesh, there is so much blood. Lady Walda is pale and turning blue when Ramsay has come.

 

He wears his father’s blood.

 

She smiles grimly and sadly at her chosen knight. It is sad that others have betrayed them, that others would try to hurt them, that they would be so overlooked.

 

*     *     *

 

It is before they are wed when he brings her to his bed, he calls her his little wife. She protests, but not much.

 

She weeps when he breaches her, but not much.

 

He takes pleasure in watching the way she frets when he attends to her where he has been forceful and strong with her body.

 

She peaks and does not know the feeling, quickly she comes to savor it.

 

He grins above her and when he has her again she moves with him.

 

It still hurts, but not much.

 

He promises to make her sing, and she does, gladly.

 

She is safe and loved and he is as knightly as any trueborn lord.

 

*     *     *

 

They hunt and fuck and rule.

 

They are happy for a time.

 

They wait for Winter.

 

*     *     *

 

When the White Walkers come she is near starved, her household is dead, her husband has long since passed into the long night by her own hand, he’d been crazed in the night and she’d cut him without a thought.

 

Now there is a King of Winter in her hall.

 

His ghouls shuffle forward.

 

The black cloaked King comes close on his horse into her hall.

 

Winter has come.

 

When he pushes back his hood she laughs. His eyes are blue and his face is scarred but for a moment she sees their father in him.

 

It doesn’t hurt when she falls.

 

It doesn’t hurt when she rises.

 

She remembers herself but it doesn’t matter. If fire comes she will burn. All that waits is the dark. She will not burn.

 

The Night King pulls her to his horse and she cannot feel the cold of him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> House Manderly and House Dustin's words are made up but I tried to go with things that went well with the overall themes of their history.
> 
> The Wild Hares mentioned in this are Tallhart men who are all Robb's age that in canon ride with him and protect him, they are slaughtered but I figured a few must still be around. Also Brandon and Beren in this are half-brothers which is canon? because in the books Beren is a viable heir to Hornwood because his mother was a Hornwood even though Beren is younger than Brandon so I think they have different mothers. 
> 
> Also the ending...Jon is the Night King and Sansa becomes an Other and they ride off together and destroy the world, the end.


End file.
